


An Inside Man

by VeraChapin



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bank Robbery, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Pre-Relationship, security guard!Namjoon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 01:59:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7080031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeraChapin/pseuds/VeraChapin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Make your captor think of you as a person. Tell them your name. </i><br/>He took a breath and said,"Namjoon Kim." His voice sounded rough and low, lower than usual, like it got after he pulled an all-nighter. Namjoon heard the AC turn off, but he wasn't sure the driver actually heard him so he tried again, "My name is Namjoon Kim. I'm in college, about to finish my undergrad degree this fall. I've got a sister and a mom and dad..."<br/><i>Just keep talking. Make him see you as a person.</i></p><p>That time that Namjoon got tied up and kidnapped by his extremely attractive (and usually sane) coworker. Or, how Namjoon tries to solve a mystery with a mild concussion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Inside Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sumiya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumiya/gifts).



> Prompt: Jin is a bank robber (author chooses why), Namjoon is the hostage that gets kidnapped to ensure a safe escape.

The last thing Namjoon remembered was starting his 9 o’clock round. Something had been wrong, and he’d gone to investigate. And then… ug, it hurt to think and he felt a little queasy with the motion. Had he and Hobi gone out last night after his shift? Why would he be hungover in a moving car? He tried to push his beanie up so he could see, but his arms wouldn’t move.

_Why can’t I move?_ God, he’d never had a hangover this bad. _Where the fuck am I? Why can’t I see and why does it feel like I’m in a car._

Well, it was reasonable to assume that he probably was in a car. And he couldn’t see because there was something covering his eyes. He tried to pretend like that made him feel better about the rest of the giant unknowns. One thing at a time. There had to be a logical explanation for whatever was happening around him. He just had to take in the facts and figure it out. He’d always been good at puzzles. _Breathe, and start with what you know._

He couldn’t see anything, but he could still listen and feel and… hopefully he wouldn’t have to taste anything. It wasn’t one of his keener senses anyway, if you believed Eunji. She never seemed to tire of dragging him to places her foodie friends raved about, and then acted scandalized when he just _ate_ his dinner. He did get it, how into the whole experience she was, and there were certainly things in his life he documented obsessively, but food just wasn’t. He missed her now. He even missed her constant needling. Ug, she would really give him hell if she found out he’d gotten blackout drunk and ended up… here?

He tried to remember what happened last night. Was it last night? He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. There was only an intermittent flash of light coming in under the blindfold. Not daylight, he was pretty sure. Streetlights maybe, but not many and not in a regular pattern. He guessed he was outside the city now. From work, in the shortest direction, it was maybe 15 minutes' drive to get away from the light pollution. Harrumph. Hobi was always trying to get him to get out of town more. Normally, in his real life that wasn’t whatever incomprehensible thing that was happening to him now, he got his nature from trail running in Forest Park, dodging all the other people who went there on weekends to get away. He’d never been particularly athletic, but he had picked up running a few years ago. Sometimes Hobi tagged along, but usually Namjoon wanted to be alone. Clear his head.

Before he switched to third shift at TFB, he went out at dusk. If it was a nice night, he’d make a game out of spot-the-hidden-cat. The cow-print one that lounged on a low wall and ignored every dog that walked by. The ridiculously fluffy one that had a habit of rolling on the warm pavement and getting all kinds of leaves stuck in its fur. If he needed to put in some miles, he’d loop down by the waterfront and look across at the downtown lights reflected in the river. But now he worked three-to-eleven and had to switch to morning(ish) runs. It still helped, still gave him time to think about his research and work through issues, but he missed seeing the stars (what ones could be seen).

His shifts after closing time were always long and boring. Nothing ever happened, That was great. That’s why he took the job. Being a part-time security guard wasn’t exactly the kind of banking experience he was looking for, but it was fantastically boring. He worked on the research that was going to become his thesis in the fall, and get paid pretty well at the same time. And he sure wasn’t going to turn a job in this economy.

He smiled to himself. “In this economy.” People said that all the time, especially since the housing crash. Businesses used it to preface nearly any statement about cutting jobs, slashing benefits, declining profits, or rising flood waters. His thesis adviser Jim has even repeated a joke about it: “In this economy, it is imperative that every sentence begin with ‘in this economy…’”. Well, that’s what passes for business major humor. Except, some companies were using that line even when their revenues were good. He’d maybe gotten a little obsessed with the gray area of not-exactly-corporate-fraud, loopholery and business ethics. The research for his thesis was going well so far and he was really hoping it would help him land a job at the Federal Reserve, or one of the other regulatory agencies.  
But something _had_ happened at work.

—

He’d woken up in fits and starts, snoozing even his fourth alarm. _TGIF, right?_ Hoseok was long gone and he could see bright sun shining around where he hadn’t gotten his blackout curtains totally shut.  He opened his eyes and met green ones six inches from his face. After a year of living with Hobi and Hobi’s nearly-silent cat, Namjoon had grudgingly accepted that Misty would stare at him for hours, and the left side of the bed was not his to use anymore.  
Shorts and his oldest hoody. Coffee. He sang along with his playlist in the other room and got used to the idea of being awake, “…now you know, all you need is me, I’m your toy…”. He checked how hot it was going to get up to through the weekend. It was habit, mostly. Jess had gotten comped tickets to a show Saturday, but otherwise Namjoon was planning on getting through some more journal articles about corporate responsibility Jim had emailed. He had to come up with something cruel and unusual in response to Yoongi’s latest offering too.

Jumping between donut blocks while avoiding fireballs just to lure a Bowser over to hit a P switch? He could do better than that.  There was no reason to let Yoongi how much cursing had accompanied his… many… tries before beating his level. He was still kind of miffed that Yoongi took a job up in Seattle, but at least they had wholesome family fun like Mario Maker to keep their friendship alive. Maybe he could do something fun with a ring of winged boos and ice blocks…?

A fanfare distracted him from his plans for world 8 domination. And again. And again. Namjoon didn’t need a personalized text tone to know who it was.

Hobi: =) =) =)

Hobi: OMG

Hobi: He invited me out for coffee!!!

Me: Wait, are you cheating on your barista?

Hobi: No!! Jimin asked me out :D

Me: For coffee. Coffee that he will make at the coffee shop where he works?

Hobi: I don’t know. Maybe we’ll go somewhere else. You’re. Missing. The. Point.

Me: Ok, ok! Very happy for you. Even if it’s a strange date idea. 

Me: But, you’ve been buying coffee there almost every day even though work has pretty decent stuff

Me: So you match

Hobi: Whatever. I have a date with the sweetest guy I’ve ever met. So ha.

Me: Later. Gotta get my ass in gear for work.  


He got to work on time, only a little sweaty under his poly-blend uniform, and was attacked viciously from behind.  
“Hey, Hobi.”  
“Hey Joonie” said Hoseok, squeezing a bit tighter before letting Namjoon go. He looked deliriously happy. Namjoon studied his face for a minute. Hoseok was the highest producing associate loan officer in the metro area, mostly because he could put almost anyone at ease and made amortization tables sound like fun. But the smile on his face now was different. More, but less.  
“…Namjoon?”  
“Yeah, sorry. I’m really happy for you. You haven’t shut up about him weeks. Lemme get clocked in now, before you wax poetic.”

—

He was lying on his left side with his arms bound somehow in front of him. There was a spot on his left thigh felt sore and his legs were tied up too. Neither restraint was particularly uncomfortable, but definitely snug. Oddly, it felt much thicker than just a couple loops of rope and when he tried to raise his arms again, it pulled his legs up awkwardly. A part of him had been hoping he’d been tangled up in blanket or had slept weird and all his limbs were numb, or, really, any other reason.

The floor under his cheek was covered in rough carpet and it sloped up underneath his head and shoulders. He couldn’t straighten out his legs to see how big the space was, but it didn't feel like a truck. Not a minivan either. His parents’ van had hardware in the floor to hold the seats and you had to put down a couple layers of blankets before you could make it comfy. This vehicle, whatever it was, didn’t feel like it had anything but carpet. Hatchback? Sedan with the seats folded down? No new car smell, he noted, but he could smell laundry detergent and deodorant on the fabric tied around his eyes. A shirt maybe? Worn, but still fairly clean.

_I feel like I should recognize this scent. Not mine, or my dad's, or Hobi’s… but I feel like someone I know uses this brand. It makes me feel nervous._

—

Seokjin Kim made him nervous. Namjoon hadn’t actually spoken to him. He didn’t think he’d ever even been close enough to know what kind of deodorant he used, but it was probably something fancy. Seokjin always looked some put together. Most people, especially those who didn’t have direct customer interactions, did the bare minimum to comply with business professional. Namjoon didn’t have a choice. Any time he wasn’t at TFB and didn’t have to wear a uniform, Namjoon was as creative with his clothing as a student and part-time rent-a-cop could be. But Seokjin! Seokjin looked polished every day. Effortless. Didn’t loosen his tie when he thought the higher-ups were going to be away for a while like the other guy in accounting did.

A dozen times a day Namjoon looked over at Seokjin, seeing him cover up his slightly squeaky laugh (the way he did when he was really amused), or teaching a coworker how to void something (he seemed to know a bit about everything, including the bank’s old proprietary software), or pressing his fingers together while he stared the numbers into submission (he could have been glaring at minesweeper, but Namjoon had a feeling that Seokjin was too dedicated to kill much time at work).

Except, Seokjin hadn’t been laughing much recently. He’d smiled, sure, but his smiles didn’t make it to his eyes. He thought about asking Seokjin if he needed anything, but what could he say, “hey, I watch you all the time at work, and I don’t think anyone else has noticed it, but you seem stressed”? So he didn’t.  
And then Seokjin got fired last week. Oh, management didn’t say “fired”, but word got around. Privately, everyone Namjoon had spoken to was shocked. Seokjin had been really good at his job, and no one had any idea until Seokjin was being escorted out the door. He was gone so quickly he left a spare dress shirt in his cabinet and Nichole had to take it to him after work.

_I guess I knew something, though. I knew he was going through something._

—

At least his head was starting to clear now. It still hurt like hell, especially at the back. Now that he was paying attention, it didn’t feel like a hangover. Had he been unconscious? He was having trouble keeping his mind from wandering. Drinking with his friends, he'd been known to brag that he had never passed out. When he’d had too much he usually found himself wandering off to crawl into bed and fall asleep. Usually, he made it to his own bed, but there was that time freshman year when he’d just picked a bed away from all the noise and crashed. He’d woken up to a deserted house, completely confused. He remembered stumbling along the street studying the numbers on every mailbox. If he just kept walking, he’d get the school’s address—he memorized it as soon as he’d gotten his early admission letter, so excited to write it on everything—he just had to follow that street. Wait, the numbers were getting smaller. He just had to follow that street the other way and he’d get to his dorm and fall back asleep.  That was one the dumbest things he’d ever done. He’d been pissed to find out everyone had gone to Banning's for pie and just left him there, but at least he still remembered everything that had happened.

—

3rd/1st Bank closed at six. Namjoon still cringed at the name, though he’d sat through the orientation videos and knew the story behind it. A bank with First in the name had been bought by the then-bigger bank with Third in the name, and for some god-awful reason they (probably a committee) had picked “3rd/1st Bank” as the conglomerated name. With the exception of management and marketing, everyone else who worked there called it “TF Bank” or “TFB” or sometimes “WTFB”, though not loudly.

He did his rounds. Nothing out of place, as usual. It wasn’t a main branch, and they didn’t keep a lot of cash in the vault. They weren’t any safe deposit boxes either. Most of their business was loans, investments, and people using the ATM. Namjoon hadn’t really been expecting to find someone in the middle of, well, he wasn’t sure. He’s been instructed to use non-lethal force whenever possible (less-lethal, he’d corrected the trainer from corporate), so he had his Taser ready.

And then, he’d stumbled, grabbed the trigger and felt something smack into the back of his head.

—

_No. No. No! I cannot be tied up in a car, kidnapped by, what, a bank robber? This was everything mom said would happen if I took this job, minus the getting shot or leaving the bank unlocked by accident._

Well, fuck. He didn’t think he was overreacting. What next? The only things Namjoon knew about hostage negotiations were from all of the stupid cop dramas Hoseok made him watch.

_Make your captor think of you as a person. Tell them your name._

He took a breath and said,"Namjoon Kim." His voice sounded rough and low, lower than usual, like it got after he pulled an all-nighter. Namjoon heard the AC turn off, but he wasn't sure the driver actually heard him so he tried again, "My name is Namjoon Kim. I'm in college, about to finish my undergrad degree this fall. I've got a sister and a mom and dad..."

_Just keep talking. Make him see you as a person._

"My best friend's Hobi. Hoseok actually. Our parents were neighbors and expected us to automatically be friends since we were the same age, but he drove me crazy.  At least, until he started preschool before I did and suddenly the fort in my backyard was too quiet. I took about a week of playing by myself before I decided he could be my best friend after all."

“We’re still best friends, we even….”

Shit, I can’t say we work together. Bad idea to bring up the bank right now.

After what felt like minutes, he heard a man’s voice. “…you even?”

The voice, of the driver he assumed, spoke again, louder this time. “Are you still awake?”

“Yeah.”

What should he say? The driver didn’t sound how Namjoon thought a kidnapper (bank robber?) should sound. He sounded nervous, even a little embarrassed. Which just means that all kidnappers don’t sound alike. He remembered what he’d been about to say.

“We’re still best friends and we even work together now.”

“Oh. Yeah, you guys are always cracking each other up,” said the driver.

“Wait, you know me?”

Shit. No, Namjoon hadn’t meant to ask anything about the driver in case it set him off. He held his breath to hear what happened next.

“Um, yeah. I might as well tell you. Seokjin Kim. From accounting. Ex-accounting. Very recently ex.”

“Oh.” He’d been tied up and kidnapped by his extremely attractive (and usually sane) coworker. Well, that’s awkward.

“Um, yeah, I remember. Everyone was really surprised. They all liked you.”

“But not you?” Seokjin seemed to try for a joking tone, but failed.

“I mean, I didn’t really know you that well.” He almost wanted to say something about what he saw in Seokjin’s face the last few weeks.

“But…”

“It's part of my job to keep my eyes out. Just, noticing things. Sometimes you looked stressed. You didn’t laugh much the last few weeks before… you left.”

“Before I was fired. It’s OK to say it—it’s not like I didn’t notice what happened,” Seokjin said, sounding more confident. “That’s when I found out about the fraud. I thought it was an accounting error. I checked through all my work, talked to my colleagues, but I couldn’t figure out why the numbers wouldn’t match.”  
Namjoon listened, warily, but interested to hear what excuse Seokjin was trying to make.

“I took it to Susan, and she said she’d look into it, but she didn’t. Well, she did—the numbers all matched the next day—but now they matched the wrong set.”

Seokjin paused. Namjoon thought he could hear him drum his fingers on the wheel.

“Namjoon... I’m sorry. For tying you up and bringing you. It’s… I thought I could get proof and get out before anyone saw. I didn’t think about it being you on duty.”

“Thanks, for saying that.” Namjoon was glad that Seokjin hadn’t asked for forgiveness.

“I know an EMT. He can check your head. Make sure you’re OK. It looked like you hit the wall pretty hard.”

Namjoon just said, “OK.” He didn’t know if he had hit a wall, he’d thought something had hit him, but it was possible.

—

They drove down a series of winding roads. Namjoon wasn’t sure if Seokjin was trying to disorient him, or it was just that complicated a route, but finally they came to the end of a gravel drive and stopped.

Seokjin said, “I’m going to come around to the back door and take off your blindfold.”

He did as he said, being careful to let Namjoon know before he touched him. With the blindfold removed, Namjoon looked down at his arms, surprised by what he saw. Blue-green-teal climbing rope was knotted almost the whole way to his elbows. It was beautiful, if he could ignore that it was him tied up, and reminded him strongly of… porn. He looked up at Seokjin, who flushed and looked away.

_Interesting._

“Um, he’s the EMT. I told you about.” Seokjin gestured to the other person, whom Namjoon hadn't noticed yet. “He’s going to check your head out, ok?” He sounded nervous again.

Namjoon nodded. What choice did he have? The other man moved forward, jostling Seokjin out of the way. He looked younger, but still college-aged, and remarkably unfazed by having to examine a bound person. Namjoon wondered if this was a common occurrence. He hoped not.

“I’m Taehyung." He gave Namjoon a short wave. "I get to be the sane bro for once.”

Seokjin frowned at Taehyung, but Taehyung just raised a brow and gave him a look.

Taehyung turned back to Namjoon and said,  “I have no idea what Boozy was thinking…”

“Hey!”

"I've told him a million times you never move someone with a potential spine injury. C collar? Backboard? Never mind. If you weren't going to call 911, at least you brought him to me.” He turned to give Seokjin a tight smile.

“You’re making me regret this. Even more than I already do.” Seokjin grumbled, but Namjoon heard fondness in his tone.

Taehyung waived him away and crouched down to examine Namjoon.  
  
"So, the good news. Since you can move all your limbs and are obviously lucid and responsive, that rules out a lot of possible injuries. Without access to a hospital I can't rule out a hairline fracture, but the wound to the back of your head didn't break the skin."

“Good, I guess?”Namjoon said.

"Given what Boozy told me..."

Seokjin broke in, almost perfunctorily now, "You know I hate when you call me that."

"I call you that when you're being an idiot. You're being an idiot.” To Namjoon he said, “Hey, what’s your name?”

“Namjoon.”

“Namjoon. Cool. I should probably mention, although he’s no doubt giving you a horrible first impression, ‘Boozy’ is just a childhood nickname and does not connote anything regarding alcohol.”

“Actually…” Namjoon started to say but Seokjin cut in.

“A bunch of stupid kids used to tease me about being named ‘gin’, like the alcohol. Brilliant comedic minds.”

“Yup. I’m not even gonna get into what I was called, and Seokjin doesn’t know because he was already in middle school.” Taehyung put on an enormous grin.

As bizarrely funny as it was to be in the middle of this childhood drama, Namjoon broke in, “Taehyung. Actually, Seokjin and I were coworkers. So this…apparently bondage-themed non-consensual road trip wasn’t my first impression.”

“Really. Ohhhh! You’re hot security guard!”

Seokjin made to cover Taehyung’s mouth, but his brother slipped to the side.

“I totally should have known from the uniform. You’re right, the elaborate knots are eye-catching. Let’s get you out of those and into something more comfortable. Like your first amendment rights.” Taehyung said with a wide smile.

“Eighth.”

“What?”

“I can’t believe I’m arguing about this, but the eighth amendment is the one about ‘cruel and unusual punishments’. My free speech seems fine, although I haven’t tried to assemble or petition yet.”

Seokjin laughed. Full on, squeaky-like-a-windshield wiper, bent over double, laughed.  
  
“Taehyung, can you go get me some heavy-duty scissors? Nothing you want to be able to do crafts with again.”

Taehyung glaced down at Namjoon's arms and went. Namjoon felt really off-kilter, sitting in the back of the car, still tied up, but unable to really feel in danger. Seokjin crouched down just in front of Namjoon’s legs, but didn’t touch him.

“I freaked out. That’s not an excuse, but that’s what happened.”  
Namjoon nodded for him to continue.

“Can I undo the rope?” Seokjin asked in an even tone.

Namjoon frowned, “I thought Taehyung was getting scissors…”

“He is. But he’s training to be a wilderness EMT, I’m sure he can tell that I can just pull, here…”

He freed Namjoon’s legs.

“And everything unravels. The one for your arms is there, by your wrist. I can get it or you can with your teeth.”

Namjoon understood. “You can.”

Once Namjoon’s arms were free, Seokjin stood up and took a few steps back. “Your stungun in in the glove box. Keys are in by the console.”

“So, I’m free to go.”

“Yes. I’m hoping you won’t tell the bank about this, but I’m not stopping you. I really fucked this up. I know. I just wish…” Seokjin looked down, frowning either at the dust on his oxfords, or the world in general.

Namjoon stood, and looked passed Seokjin at the small cabin, where Taehyung was still “looking for scissors.”

“Did you get the evidence you need?”

Seokjin looked up. “What? Oh, yeah. I think so. I kept daily backups just for peace of mind and they hadn’t deleted them off the network yet. I got everything I think will prove fraud and the cover up.”

“I’m still really pissed, ok? But I actually might be able to help. This would make one hell of an addition to my thesis if I could include it." He let Seokjin have half a smile. "Without getting arrested.”


End file.
